


Bonfire

by Yarnforbrains



Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bonfires, Drinking, F/M, Fucking, Halloween Costumes, Kissing, One Night Stands, Vaginal Fingering, banging harder than a screen door in a hurricane, clyde logan has a big dick, he is really really tall, i just really wanted to bang clyde logan, there's a little plot here but it's mostly sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28916097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yarnforbrains/pseuds/Yarnforbrains
Summary: Mellie invites you to a Halloween bonfire at Jimmy's where promptly spill beer all over yourself and Clyde.Started as a one shot, but I love Clyde Logan.Warning: this is definitely a bit of "plot - maybe a little plot - but mostly porn"
Relationships: Clyde Logan & You, Clyde Logan/Reader, Clyde Logan/You
Kudos: 37





	Bonfire

“Listen,” Mellie’s hand on my arm stopped you as you unbuckled your seatbelt. “I’m gonna give you the same speech I give to everybody when they meet my brothers. I’m sorry, I apologize. Just ignore them. And just don’t fuck Jimmy, okay? He’s a flirt, but don’t humor ‘im. It ain’t worth it.” She sounded like she had just added the last part as an afterthought, but she meant it. Your new friend really thought you’d fuck her brother, but apparently it was something she worried about. You made a note to get the story from her later because right now she looked like she was as serious as a heart attack and like she might have one herself, so you nodded solemnly and crossed your heart, promising to honor girl code. 

“I promise you will not fuck Jimmy.” you repeated, wondering why she only mentioned not fucking one of her brothers. You wondered what about the other brother while watching her pull down the visor and touch up her pink lipstick. She made a pretty cute Barbie, you had to say. Her hair was perfect, and she didn’t look at all like she was freezing to death. Not like you.

You looked down at your faded jeans and coat. With the car turned off and the heater not blasting warm air on you, you could already feel the cold air seeping through the car windows. You were not amused by the cold. I mean, what God looks at Halloween weekend and goes,  _ “You know what that needs? Frost. That’s what it needs.”  _ You know where it wasn’t freezing? Florida. That’s where. Back home we had bonfires because we wanted to, not because the backyard was an inhospitable, frigid wasteland without one. You shivered, regretting leaving home, but there had been absolutely nothing there worth saving. 

“Ok, and if I leave, you can crash on the couch or kick him out of bed. It’s fine. I’ll tell him, okay? Or Clyde can take you home. The Logans will take care of you.” She kept talking as she got out of her beloved Chevy Nova and slammed the door closed, leaving you to scurry behind her to catch up. She called “hello” to the group of people in costumes standing off the front porch, and they all answered back in unison, raising their drinks in greeting. You saw a Mario, a slutty Daisy, an inflatable dinosaur costume and a pirate among the group. Feeling out of place again, you looked down at your outfit, disappointed in yourself. Maybe someone would believe that you were dressed as a cowgirl, except - ya know, no hat and wearing flip flops. But at least you had the braided pigtails and flannel - not that anyone could see it under the baggy fleece but warmth came at a price, and you were too cold to argue. Still, it made for a horrible Halloween costume. 

Suddenly, Mellie grabbed your hand and pulled you through the front door, screen door slamming on its hinges. Even with the door open, it was warm inside from the body heat of everybody. It was a pretty cute place - very homey. You liked the portraits on the wall. Everyone was smiling, and it looked like they were doing it because they liked each other and not because they were told to. You continued to allow Mellie to corral you into the kitchen and stood awkwardly to the side as she barrelled in like she owned the place, clearly comfortable in her brothers’ home. 

She ignored the small dining table covered with various bottles of booze and went searching in a bottom cabinet for a second before whooping victoriously as she pulled out two of the biggest mason jar you’d ever seen. Whatever was in it, there were cinnamon sticks floating around in one of them, along with some star anise and - apples? Were those apple chunks in there? The other one simply had a skull and crossbones sticker on it. 

“Ever had moonshine?” You shook your head. You hadn’t done a lot of things, but the devious look in her eye told you that you were about to get into a whole heap of trouble. Luckily, she passed over the second jar and grabbed the first. “Here, take this.” She poured two generous slogs of whiskey into plastic cups, holding them both in one hand while she turned around and opened the fridge. She rifled around a moment before the sound of aerosolized whip cream filled the air. Satisfied, Mellie handed you the completed shot and you looked at it warily. Clearly, a West Virginia single shot was a Florida double shot. 

“Bottoms up!” she called, throwing the drink back and downing it in one quick swallow. You raised your cup and attempted to do the same, only getting about halfway through before you had to stop and swallow. “No, no, no. Come on. Throw it back, sweetheart. There ya go.” Mellie brought your cup back up to your mouth and insisted you finish it. Hand to your mouth, you coughed into the burn in your throat. To her credit, Mellie didn’t laugh, but smiled kindly at you, pouring you a second, smaller shot. 

“The second I saw you, I knew you needed that,” she looked satisfied and nodded in agreement with herself.

“I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world,” the world’s most high pitched, obnoxious falsetto voice sang its way into the kitchen, spilling from the mouth of a very large, very broad man in jeans and a tucked in red and black flannel. Surprisingly, the nasal and off-key rendition of Aqua’s only hit was not the most curious thing about him. Around his waist was a tool belt, but there were no tools. There were rolls of paper towels. Mellie didn’t give him a second glance; instead she grabbed another two glasses and prepared two more shots. One was for him, the other was for the even taller man beside him. They each came up and gave Mellie a quick peck on the cheek in exchange for the drink she poured. They raised their drinks in unison and shot them back like the professional Moonshine drinkers they were, and you again found yourself trailing behind as you took your second shot to keep up with them. 

“Jimmy, what the hell are you supposed to be?” Instead of answering his sister, Jimmy goaded Mellie on, spinning a twirl and showing off his toolbelt of paper towels. It looked like he had actually drilled holes straight on through the rolls so he could thread some twine through and attach them to the belt. 

“I’m the quicker, thicker picker upper! The Brawny Man!” he was so proud of himself for his wrong answer. He held his hips out and shook them at his sister and you, shimmying and smiling broadly, clearly with more than a little bit of a head start on the booze.

“That’s the wrong paper towel, dumbass,” the taller one said. He nodded at you respectfully as one does in the South and handed his glass back to Mellie for a refill. You smiled back in response, biting your lip and motioning to his upper lip. He was gorgeous, even with whipped cream sticking off his mustache. You kind of blanked out and got stuck in his honey brown eyes for a second while he wiped the foam away with the back of his hand. 

“How many kinds of paper towels can there be? Jesus.” Mellie refilled the boy’s cups and fancied them up with a whip cream topper. You shook your head when offered another. You were not a native, and were pretty positive that you’d be laid out sooner than the West Virginians. 

“Well, you got Bounty. That’s the actual quicker, thicker picker upper. Then you have Mr. Brawny, who I think you planned on being.” He paused to shoot his second shot, which he did without flinching, and immediately wiped his mouth again while staring at you. He turned away and continued. “We got Viva - that means ‘life.’ You might consider gettin’ one.” He slapped his hand on Jimmy’s back a couple times and abandoned his cup on the table. The two kept bickering back and forth while Mellie took everyone’s cup and sloshed them full of the second jar.

“Oh fuck off, Clyde.” Jimmy turned and shoved him in the shoulder. The two grabbed their new drinks and walked right back out the kitchen and headed out back, thick as thieves. 

“Well, I’d like to introduce you to my brothers, Jimmy and Clyde,” Mellie said sarcastically, left to clean up their trash. She stashed the boozed back from where she’d pulled it from and tossed the whip cream back into the short little fridge. “Come on, Sunshine. Let’s go get a beer.” Mellie threaded her arm through the crook of yours and began dragging you outside, following the same path her brothers had taken. She navigated confidently in the somewhat darkness, probably having taken this same path a few thousand times before, and warned you to go slow on the moonshine in your cup.

You followed along as well as a captive hostage could and allowed her to take you out back where a bonfire spit tall red and orange flames into the sky, sparking off little embered flecks as they licked the sky. The way the fire lit the silhouette of the mountains transformed them into the rolling curves of a sleeping woman, turned on her side, wearing birch trees and sugar maples as a leafy nightgown as her curves spread out lazily into valleys and hills. Without the light pollution of the city, the sky was the deep kind of darkness that you’d get lost in except for the stars that scattered their light around like confetti at a parade. You got caught up in the sky for a moment and forgot to move your feet until Mellie gave your arm a gentle tug. She smiled wide as you smiled sheepishly and apologized. 

“A little different than orange fields, huh?” she teased, guiding you to the fire. You decided against correcting her that it was orange  _ orchards _ and that it was actually berries: strawberries and blueberries specifically, but the thoughts flew straight out of your mind as she sat you down on a log near the fire. 

Dear God. Your toes. You’d only been outside a few minutes, but they were already frozen. You kicked off your flip flops and held your hands and feet out to the bonfire to bring circulation back into them. Satisfied you wouldn’t be wondering off, Mellie went to go get you both some beers. You sat there happily basking in the heat of the fire, finally feeling warm for the first time since crossing the border out of Florida. But - man - did the burn of this fire feel like the burn of sun on your skin on a summer day. Bittersweet homesickness is what it felt like.

“Are you okay?” you jumped, having forgotten your surroundings and getting sucked into your thoughts again.

“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me,” popped out of your mouth before you could stop it, but Clyde didn’t seem to mind. He apologized and took a sip of his drink. The plastic cup was dwarfed in his broad hand, looking like a kiddie sized beer instead of the Solo cup it was. He held another one in the crook of his arm and grabbed it deftly between his pinky and ring finger of the same hand already holding his beer. He awkwardly offered it to you, apologizing for manhandling your drink. The cold of it bit your hand so you stuck it on the ground beside your feet after taking a heavy swallow while he continued apologizing and starting making small talk.

“I lost my hand in Iraq. Darndest thing. I was transpo-in’ out. Mellie ever tell you our family’s cursed?” He held his left arm up to show you and started in on his family history. Mellie had warned you he’d probably go off about this sometime tonight. Humoring him, you picked your beer back up and nursed another sip to hide your smile. The West Virginian accent had to have been the most endearing one you had ever heard in your life. Clyde spoke slowly and deliberately, knees up to his chest as he sat down next to you on the log bench. He kicked his legs out in front of him, and you worried he’d melt the soles of his shoes with how close his long legs put him to the bonfire. You followed the line across the fire pit and watched a guy in a skeleton costume pull up an armless kitchen chair and start playing a guitar. 

“You ever have real moonshine before, Girlie?” you snapped your head to the voice. Clyde was looking at you, concern stuck between his brows. You shook your head no slowly, just enough to clear your head. 

“Only rotgut. Not that stuff,” you admitted, picking your beer back up and taking another sip because you couldn’t think of anything else to do with your hands other than push his hair behind his ears, and it was a little early in the night to do that, and you certainly weren’t drunk enough to do that yet, but give it a couple more beers...

Clyde grunted in agreement and the two of you took a drink in quiet unison and listened to the man across the fire sing country songs that you had never heard before. Everyone else seemed to know all the words, so you just kept drinking slowly. 

“So, um, you’re not from around here, Mellie says.” Clyde tried to make conversation, or you tried to understand it. The beer wasn’t making you drunk, but the fire was making you sleepy. 

“Nope. Not from here.” you took another sip of your beer and wiggled your toes at the fire again. Your cup was starting to get empty, and you frowned at it. 

“I assumed,” he laughed quietly to yourself then frowned when he realized it sounded like he was making fun of you. “It’s just that it’s a balmy 60 degrees out, and you're holding your toes to the fire like they’re ‘bout to freeze off. And you came in flip flops. Every other girl here is wearin’ boots.” As if to prove his point, a couple of women in boots and flannels over their appropriately slutty Halloween costumes joined the musician and his friends across the fire. “It’s the uniform for Boone County women in the fall. I think there’s a law.’ He tried a joke again, bringing his knees up and folding his arms over them, swirling his cup by the rim. 

“What are you even supposed to be?” you changed the subject abruptly, ignoring his jab about your cold toes because he didn’t need to know he was right. 

“Me?” he pointed to the embroidered name tag on his chest that simply read  _ ‘Dale’ _ and tapped at it. “I’m a Clydesdale.” He was proud of his clever wordplay, and smiled sheepishly when a laugh bubbled deep out of stomach and burst through your chest as you parrotted the punchline back to him. Caught in a fit of giggles, you rocked backwards on the log and lost your balance. Your butt slid off the back, and your bottom slammed into the ground, legs draped over the seat you'd just fallen off of. Now laughing at yourself, you gave up and happily fell back and laid down on the cold ground. 

“You okay down there?” His slow, concerned drawl sent you into a fit again. 

“Ya’ll are just so cute with your accents.” You propped yourself up on your elbows and took a deep breath to stop the giggles. “You’re like little teddy bears. Everything you say just sounds so nice.”

“Uh huh, sit up, Sunshine,” you half flipped over onto your stomach searching for Mellie’s voice from somewhere behind you. She held another beer out to you, so you crawled back onto your seat like a literal bump on a log so you could take it. 

You heard Clyde ask his sister where she’d found you, and she took a seat by him and explained how she’d saved you from cutting all your hair off. You’d rolled into the salon earlier that day, determined to make a change because there was a rule written down somewhere in the Manual of Womanhood that demanded all major life events and/or breakdowns included a major haircut. Mellie had refused to do the cut and told you to “drink on it” and demanded you come to the bonfire. She’d adopted you like a stray dog, and her brother didn't seem surprised by that in the least. 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t cut it off,” his sweet smile caught your attention as he lightly tugged on the end of your pigtail. 

You wiggled your finger at him to come closer and cupped your hand over your mouth to share a secret. He scooted over closer to you on the log, his thigh now pressed against yours as he leaned his ear closer so he could hear you better. Without thinking, you held his hair out of the way so you could speak into his ear. In a hushed whisper, you promised not to cut yours if he didn’t cut his, and he turned his fire-warmed eyes to yours. His mouth was entirely too close, the lingering wetness on his lips leftover from the beer reflecting firelight, acting like a beacon. His cheek was in your hand; you’d never dropped it. A smirk started at the corner of his mouth, cracking out across his cheek and then he was moving closer. 

A loud, purposeful throat clearing sounded nearby, startling you. You jumped, falling backwards off the log again and sloshing the full cup of beer all over yourself and Clyde as you grabbed him for support. He only succeeded in slowing your fall, but you still found the world upside down and wet. Your fleece was soaked through and so was your lap and Clyde’s shoulder. What else could you do but throw your head back and laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. 

Clyde stood up and you took the hand he offered and let him help you up, but he was stronger than you expected so you sort of flew up off the ground and fell into him again. Your hand went out to brace yourself against him, but instead of grabbing his arm, your hand went to his belt buckle. You both realized it at the same time, and he raised his eyebrow at you as you snatched your hand away, apologizing profusely. He was tall. He was very tall. Clyde was an exceptionally tall and broad man, and the sheer size of him was delicious. 

“That’s okay, but you’re all wet now.” his massive fingers plucked at the hem of your soaked fleece, sending drops of spilled beer scattering through the air. You felt his fingers through your other layer, very aware of how close he was and how wide his hands were. 

“Um, thank you.” you died a little inside when you realized what came out of your distracted mouth. You knew this would be the moment that you replayed over and over and over again until you died, reliving the mortification. “You’re wet, too,” was all you could come up with. His broad shoulder was wet, and now there were more little splatters of cast off beer across his stomach. You felt fuzzy-headed, but knew it was not from drinking. The giddiness was, but the thick, electric sparks were from him. You swayed backwards, looking up at his eyes. You could have sworn you saw a spark of trouble flash across them. 

“We should get you out of these wet clothes,” his hand was still hanging onto the edge of your pullover, and he pulled you back until your feet were flat on the ground. “You don’t wanna get sick.” You nodded blankly and let him lead you away from the fire and back to the house, igniting when he slid his hand in yours as he pulled you along. You felt a little bad because of Mellie, but - Jesus - your fingers only reached part way down the back of his hand. He was massive, and you watched to see if he ducked his head when he walked through the door. You were slightly disappointed when he didn’t. 

More people had showed up, and the trailer was packed with people. You heard Jimmy yelling at a few people to take their smoking outside while Clyde pulled you around the kitchen and a couple steps down the short hall before swinging you into a room with him. He hit the lightswitch on the wall and his sensible bedroom was bathed in yellow-white light. It suited him perfectly. There was a big Marines flag stuck to the wood paneling. Most of the room was filled by a giant bed. Must have been a California king based on how long it was. It was made up neatly with a black comforter and exactly two king sized pillows - one for each side. There was a picture frame on the long dresser that showed the three smiling Logan children, all in various stages of little kid toothlessness. But the bed dominated the room, and there wasn’t much room left around the sides of it.

“I got tired of my feet hanging off the end,” Clyde offered as he maneuvered around the bed and pulled open a drawer. He pulled a t- shirt out and tossed it on the bed. “Close the door.” His tone changed with the order, and he sat down on the edge of his bed, scooting back so his knees hit the edge of the mattress.

You thought about whether or not you should only for however long it took you to fold your tongue over your bottom lip and rub your tongue back and forth it once or twice. You put your hand on the knob and leaned against it, letting your body close it for you as you fell against it.

“Good girl, Sunshine.” he purred the affirmation. “Now come here.” 

You pushed yourself off the door and went to stand in front of him. Even sitting, his head came up over your chest. His large hand swept behind you, landing on your thigh and pulling you to stand between his open legs. You gasped and stumbled into him. His hand started snaking up the back of your thigh, skating around to the curve of your hip, sliding under the hem of your pullover and stopping at the edge of your jeans. 

“Take off your fleece.” His voice was low and rumbled between you. You looked at him, hovering your hands over his shoulders. His mouth was opened slightly, untrimmed mustache overlapping his lips just a hair. “Do you need help?” he had managed to render you completely unable to speak, so you nodded mutely again. Smiling like the fox who found his way into the henhouse, he held the cuff of your sweater, and you pulled your arm out of the sleeve. He did the same for the other arm, and you lifted it off and tossed it onto the floor. 

“Your flannel is wet, too.” Again, you presented your wrist to him, and he deftly unbuttoned the cuffs, stealing a moment of hungry eye contact as he switched between wrists. You rid yourself of the wet flannel in the same way, and it joined the fleece on the floor. You almost wished you’d worn a t-shirt under your flannel until you saw the hunger in his eyes as he stared your breasts, running his tongue along his bottom lip.

Nervous in the full light, standing cold in front of this gorgeous stranger you knew barely anything about save he believed his family was cursed. In that moment though, the only important thing was that he was calling your name and holding your wrist, bringing your mind back to him and throwing anything out of your mind other than what was happening in the room. 

“Hey, how drunk are you, Sunshine?” Clyde’s brows furrowed for a second, ever the gentleman, judging your ability to tell him “no.”

You shook your head. “I’m not that drunk.” Your mouth was dry, and you swallowed to wet it. “You’re just really…” your brain forgot the word it was looking for as he wrapped his arm around you, holding and lifting you as he stood up and spun you around so you were sitting on the edge of the bed, and he now stood in front of you. “...you’re really tall.” Your brain adjusted itself to the new position and perspective and you stared up the length of his body, licking your lips as his bronzed belt buckle flashed in front of you. 

“I’m sorry. Is that better?” He dropped to his knees, using his hand and his shoulder to spread your thighs apart so he could settle between them. He nipped at the inside of your thigh when you didn’t move fast enough, and your hand instinctively went to his hair. The dark strands slipped through your fingers and spilled across your fist like an overturned well of ink. He growled into the meat of your thigh and turned to nip at the other. 

“Are these wet, too?” A hard curse spilled out of the side of your mouth. You melted back onto the bed, hand still in his hair. Chuckling into the seam of your jeans, he moved up to the button on your jeans and undid it. The sound of the zipper teeth separating filled the room and drowned out the sounds of the party on the other side of the thin bedroom walls. You lifted your hips and helped him shove them down over your hips, and as the cool air of the room hit you, so did the realization that your underwear had come down with your tight jeans. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching his face for his reaction. He simply smiled up at you from his place between your thighs, licking his lips. 

“That was convenient,” was all he said, but the devil was in those teasing words. He pointed at your bra. “That got wet too” His tone demanded eye contact as you unhooked your bra. There was no arguing with him; he was right. You dropped it over the edge of the bed and resisted the urge to cover yourself. If the hunger in his eyes wasn’t enough of a warning not to you, the way he sucked on his bottom lip was more than enough reassurance. You watched him staring at you for a moment before shakily clearing your throat. 

“I think I spilled on your shirt.” your voice was quiet, but firm, playing the game along with him. Smirking, he rose off his knees, pulling his shirt over his head with one hand, adding it to your pile of discarded clothes. You lusted after his broad chest and wide shoulders, eyes drinking his chest in before moving down his stomach to the thin line of hair under his belly button that led south. “I spilled on your pants, too.” You wanted to follow that happy trail.

“Hmm? Did you?” his chest hummed in amusement at how obvious you were while eye-fucking him, and he motioned for your hand. You gave it to him, swallowing hard as he pressed it on the placket of his jeans. He was hard, and felt big enough for you to worry that he was running out of room inside his pants, and even more worried about yourself. Apprehension lasted only a second; his cock twitched under your hand. That seemed to be what ignited what had been smoldering between you, and your hands fumbled clumsily while unbuckling and unzipping his pants. They jingled as they hit the floor. You slid back on the bed and he leaned over you, chasing you as you moved towards the pillows. You backed against the headboard, and he settled between your thighs again, hovering over you on his good arm. 

Sweeping his hair out of his face, you scraped your fingers across his temples, lightly scratching his scalp and wrapping yourself around him. You pulled his mouth down to yours and gasped into his lips as the skin of his chest warmed your cold body. He dropped down onto his elbow, keeping the weight off his prosthetic, and rolled your head to the side so he could nip at your ears, biting a trail down your earlobe to your neck. He soothed each bite with a lick or suck before moving down lower. You ground yourself against him as he moved down to your chest, teasing you by blowing slow puffs of air across your nipple. Your hands sunk right back into his hair and you arched into his mouth when he closed his kiss-swollen lips around the sensitive nub. He laughed against your skin as he scraped the skin with his teeth and you rocked against him, hand on his head keeping him there. He repeated the lazy torture on your other breast as you squirmed underneath him. As you looked down at his large body laying over yours, you met his eye, and he bit you playfully, nipping at the valley of skin between your breasts. 

  
  


You said his name at the same time he said yours, and he sat up, sitting back on his heels on the bed. He looked at you laid out before him, pleased with what he saw. Your cheeks and chest were pinked; little red spots dotted your breasts from his mouth and teeth. Your legs were splayed open around his body, and he stared at your wet slit as he put the two fingers of his right hand into his mouth and sucked on them, soaking them with his spit. You raised your hips up, beckoning him to touch you. Slowly, he slid his fingers through you, parting your lips gently, running his fingers up around your pussy, avoiding your clit and refusing to enter you. You reached for his hand, trying to hold it one place so you could move against it, but what he was doing with his fingers rendered your own useless, so you flopped your head back onto the pillows and allowed him to torture you. 

“I told you that you were wet.” Clyde ran his fingers through your wetness, skirting by your clit, brushing lightly as he spoke. Your hips lifted off the bed in a feeble and unsuccessful attempt to follow his fingers and have him rub over your again, but he laughed at your eagerness while taking his hand away. You swallowed hard and licked your lips as you watched him bring the shining, slick fingers to his mouth and suck them clean, tongue swirling between the digits to catch every drop. 

“Take them off,” your whisper cracked, chest heaving, motioning to his plaid boxers. He smirked again, inching backwards to slide off the bed. You tracked him as he walked around the bed, coming to the side, beckoning you over with the wave of his finger. Rolling onto your hands and knees, you scurried over to him. 

“You do it.” You had no intention of arguing. With steady-ish hands, you reached out, rising up on your knees, and snaked your arm around his neck, pulling in for another kiss while your other hand traced a line down his chest, along his stomach, dipping into the elastic waistband of his boxers. You ran your hand around the top of the waistband, avoiding the tip of his cock as it strained against the fabric. Clyde reached up, holding your chin in his giant hand, keeping your mouth on his. Your other hand dropped to his low slung boxers and helped push them over his gloriously round ass. Indulging yourself, you gave the cheeks a squeeze before sliding your hands back around to his front to free his cock and let the boxers slide down his legs. 

Clyde moaned into your mouth and broke the kiss, pulling away with your lip between his teeth. You tried nipping back at him, but he had already moved his mouth away, using his height to his advantage. Pouting, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, forcing him to step backwards. You reached for his hips, resting your palms against his thighs, and kissed the flat line of his stomach. His cock was waiting for you, angry and red, precum pooling at the tip. You paused, tentatively wrapping your fist around him and looked up at him as you darted your tongue out to taste him. He hissed another curse, and grabbed your wrist, pausing you. His eyes were gentle, but the pressure on your wrist was not. You took his hand off of you, signaling everything was fine, and took his head into your mouth. With your mouth full, lips stretched, you flattened your tongue against him and slowly began bobbing your head around him. 

He cursed again, putting his hand on the back of your head, guiding you along. You moaned, vibrations moving along his shaft, and he repeated the sound back to you, pumping his hips to put him deeper into your mouth. You started to fall off balance, but grabbed his arm to keep you upright, and held onto him, using him as an anchor to keep you upright as he started fucking your face. As he hit against the back of your mouth, you gagged, your throat tensing around him. He begged you so sweetly to do it again, so you did until spit ran out of the corners of your mouth, smearing across his skin, and dribbling onto his heavy sack. You let go of him, moving your hand to cup his balls and roll them in your hands as you continued your oral assault. Your free hand slid down to your own wet mess between your legs; your fingers on your clit felt electric while holding him on your tongue. 

Clyde fisted your pigtails in his hand, using them as reigns to pull away from you, telling you to stop or slow down - preferably both. He backed up, pulling himself out of your mouth with a  _ pop _ . He stood there, out of breath, pushing his hair out of his face, breathing heavily. You watched him shift from side to side, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, but that was wet too, and swiped at it again with your forearm. 

“Leave it.” You stopped mid-movement and let your arm fall to the side. Clyde stormed back to the bed, grabbing you by the back of the neck, eyes dark, and brought your mouth up to his, pulling you up to standing. He forced his tongue into your mouth, and you knew he could taste himself on your tongue. Clyde pulled you closer, bending at the knees and hunching over to pull your body against his. The hand on your neck moved lower, and you found yourself being lifted off the ground and thrown onto the bed. Your braids and breasts bounced as you landed, and you scrambled back to your knees and rushed back to his mouth. He wasted no time sliding his fingers between your legs. You ground against them, aching to have some part of him inside you. Begging, you fucked yourself on his hand, crying out against his lips when he slid his thick finger inside of you. You bore down on it immediately, clinging to his shoulders to stay upright as he curled it inside of you, stoking at your g spot. 

“That’s a good girl. Are you gonna cum for me?” he chuckled at how your body responded to his words, fluttering around his finger. You moaned deliriously into his shoulder, scraping your teeth against his skin as he stroked that spot, sparking delicious little pricks of pleasure inside of you. “Such a good girl. You know what I want.” You nodded against him, able to stay up on your own, leaning against him for support. Your eyes rolled back into your head when he pressed his thumb against your clit at the same time he added another finger inside you. You gasped against his mouth, and he smiled against yours. His fingers teased in and out of you while his thumb rubbed circles around your clit. You felt the first wave of your orgasm barreling into you, and you screwed your eyes shut and repeated his name again and again as it carried you away. He didn’t stop, continuing to overwhelm you as you rode his hand. Your orgasm crashed hard, and you bit into the muscle of his shoulder to keep from screaming; your nails dug into his skin, and you came with his name on your lips. He slowed, but didn’t stop, letting you ride it out, teasing aftershocks out of you while you stayed wrapped around him. 

He let you catch your breath, brushing the hair that had fallen out of your braids away from your face and tucked them behind your ears. 

“You okay now?” he asked, smirking at you, knowing full well that you were more than ‘ _ okay.’  _ You nodded your head, retracting your claws out of him and leaning back in his arms, hands on his chest as you smiled. “Yeah, I thought so.” he kissed you softly then peppered playful, little pecks on the sides of your mouth and jaw in rapid succession. He moved to your neck, continuing his silly assault, making you drop and giggle and writhe to get away from the tickle of his mustache and goatee against your sensitive skin. 

With a grace you didn’t know a man that size could possess, Clyde grabbed you, sweeping you into his arms and tossed you back into the center of the bed. He wasted no time joining you while you scooted back towards the headboard again. Resting on his knees in the middle of the bed, he grabbed your ankle and pulled you down the bed, arranging you as he wanted you. You watched him lazily stroke his cock as he watched you watching him. You held the eyes for a moment before he dove towards the bedside table, pulled out a condom and sheathed himself in it before he positioned himself back between your thighs. 

Clyde spit into his hand and used it to wet his dick before wrapping his fist around the base and running the tip up and down your slip, smearing your wetness around and coating himself. He seemed to zone out for a couple seconds; his eyes were locked to your open legs, but he wasn’t focused. 

“Hey,” you sat up, putting your hand on his chest. His face jerked up yours, head cocked to the side. “We good?” you asked, eyebrows raised. He chuffed at you like the idea of being anything other than incandescently happy was ridiculous. Smiling sweetly, he kissed you again softly, pushing you back onto the bed. 

“Ain't no time for rain on a sunny day, Sunshine.” You had no idea what that meant, but the devious spark was back in his eye, and he positioned you back where he wanted you. Holding your legs open, he pushed inside you slowly, and you savored the hungry burn as he stretched you and basked the pinching pain as he slid himself into you until he had bottomed out. 

“Eyes on me,” he ordered quietly, moving his hand to your cunt and slowly circling his fingers on your clit. You held your eyes and mouth open wide as he fed his cock into you. He searched your face for permission, and you nodded quickly. You reached for him, and he withdrew his hand from you. Clyde leaned forward on his elbows, grunting at the change in position, and you begged him to kiss you and then to start moving. Underneath him, you rocked your hips, urging him to do the same.

The slow sawing motion of his hips sent you, and your mouth lolled open against his again, heady moans and sighs filling the room. He laughed at you softly, kissing the side of your mouth before he set his weight on top of you, wrapping his arms around you. You were pressed into the mattress for a moment before you felt yourself being lifted up; Clyde had rolled over and put you in control. Every bump and jerk of his hips as he settled under you, and your hand clawed at his flat stomach, leaning forward to lessen the intensity of the new position. 

“Move for me, Sunshine,” he urged gently, stroking your thigh to bring you back to him. You opened your eyes and found him looking at you desperately, holding himself up on his elbow, jaw clenched and grinding from side to side as he held himself back. 

Leaning forward, you planted your hands on his chest as you lifted yourself and started riding him slowly. You cursed at how intensely pleasurable it felt as you rode him. You felt him in every part of your body, and then felt completely outside your skin, as he let you set the pace. Your face was lifted to the ceiling, eyes shut, watching fireworks exploding behind your eyelids, hairs tingling as your second orgasm built quickly. You chased the feeling for what felt like 40 years wandering in the desert, aware of the sounds he was making and how he was moving under you, not ready for it to end. But the more you moved, the more tightly wound you became, and the tighter his grip on you became. You were pulled out of your angelic headspace by him calling your name, and your eyes sprang open at the sound of your name falling out of his mouth like a strangled cry. 

His eyes were wide, amber pools of insatiable gold lust. His mouth hung open, brows furrowed, forehead damp with hair stuck against it. He said your name again desperately in warning. You took his plea as an invitation to continue chasing your high, and sped up, sitting back on his thighs, grinding against him, feeling him hardening inside of you. He called your name at the same time he jerked his hips up, reaching out and slamming you onto him, holding you there as he spilled into the condom. Feeling him cum inside you set you off, and you contracted around him, falling onto his chest, bones turning to jelly as you laid on his heaving chest trying to catch your own breath. 

As both of your breathing returned to normal, Clyde slid out of you and rolled you off of him to his side, and you fell into the crook of his arm. You rolled over to face him, and pushed the hair off his forehead. Your hand came away wet, and you wiped it unceremoniously on his chest. He scowled at you, maneuvering his arm out from under you and pulled himself out of the bed, moving away to dispose of the condom. You watched him clean himself with the beer soaked shirt he’d thrown on the floor, and then get redressed, his back to you. 

“Hey, Clyde,” you said, questioningly. He turned and smiled at the sight of you lounging naked on his bed. He held a clean shirt in his hand and paused before throwing it on. “You think I can get a shirt now?” He laughed at you and threw the one in his hands at you. You caught it with your face and pulled it on. It came halfway down your thighs, and you crawled off the bed and gave him a playful spin to show off your new high fashion look before you reached for your jeans. You scrunched up your face as you realized they were still wet and cold. Scowling, you held them up by the belt loop and tossed them at Clyde. He hit them out of the way as a knock sounded at the door. He held up his finger to you to be quiet and winked at you, cracking the door. You heard Jimmy’s voice on the other side, the sounds of the party quieter than they had been when you two had entered the room. The two of them spoke for a moment before Clyde poked his head back in and closed the door. He looked at you solemnly, head bowed, and put his hands on his hips. 

“Well, Sunshine,” he started with false seriousness, and your heart stopped in your chest, nervous because you’d clearly broken girl code.“Looks like Mellie left - said you didn’t need a ride anymore now that I was givin’ you one. So you’re stuck with me.” You broke into a smile instantly and hopped back on the bed, moving the pillows out of the way and pulling the comforter back. You rearranged everything, making yourself more comfortable and pulled your borrowed shirt over your head. You threw it at him, but this time he let it slap against his chest. Patting the bed next to you, you smiled as his pants hit the floor again and he dove back in for round two. 


End file.
